


Sometimes You Just Have to Wait

by stargazerdaisy



Category: The Rookie (TV 2018)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Future Fic, Lucy is accidentally triggered, PTSD, and Tim has to help her through it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:33:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24721627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stargazerdaisy/pseuds/stargazerdaisy
Summary: The thinnest of breaths escaped her.  It gave him the tiniest amount of relief, he never wanted to facethatagain.  But that was the only sign that she hadn’t been turned into a piece of petrified wood.  His mind was racing a million miles an hour, trying to figure out what had brought this on.An innocent, fun moment between them takes a sharp turn when Lucy is accidentally triggered.  And Tim has to fight through his own guilt and drive to fix things to find the best way to help her.
Relationships: Tim Bradford/Lucy Chen
Comments: 14
Kudos: 93





	Sometimes You Just Have to Wait

“Noooo! Stop!!!” she squealed, trying to escape his clutches. It was no use, Tim had her pinned on the couch and was mercilessly attacking her sides. Lucy shrieked in laughter, doing her best to wriggle away. His fingers just kept tickling her relentlessly, constantly changing locations, keeping her completely off balance in a completely delightful way. 

And then she gasped and went completely rigid beneath him.

Not a single muscle twitched. Her eyes stared straight ahead, shockingly vacant of anything, let alone the mirth they’d been full of half a second ago. He wasn’t even sure if she was still breathing. It was as if she’d been flash frozen in this unnatural position. 

“Lucy?” he called, pulling back to get a better look at her. “Hey! Lucy!” Not even a blink. “Chen, what is going on?”

The thinnest of breaths escaped her. It gave him the tiniest amount of relief, he never wanted to face _that_ again. But that was the only sign that she hadn’t been turned into a piece of petrified wood. His mind was racing a million miles an hour, trying to figure out what had brought this on. 

It had started so innocently, they were simply watching tv after shift, and he had his arm wrapped around her shoulders. Just a slight shift, merely moving her head to his chest, was just enough to slide his hand down to her waist. And as he flexed his fingers to resettle them in the new position, she yelped when they made contact with her side. It only took about two seconds for him to raise his eyebrow and her to start to plead, “No! Wait! Don’t!” before he pounced and her giggles echoed off the walls. 

It was almost comical how he had gotten the upper hand immediately, pulling her down on the couch and trapping her below him. His fingers danced along her sides, skating across her abdomen, from her hips to her ribs. 

Her ribs…

_Her ribs._

The tattoo.

Tim wanted to smack himself for being so careless. He **knew** how careful she was about it. She had come so far in the last several months, working harder than anyone he’d ever seen before at her recovery. And she was truly working, not just going through the motions like he’d seen so many others do (himself included). Having psychologists for parents may have turned her childhood into one long lasting project, but it also gave her a fundamental understanding of trauma and what true recovery looked like. Not to mention, she was Lucy Chen, the fiercest, most determined woman he’d ever met. Nothing in this world could stop her when she’d made up her mind to accomplish something. But as much progress as she had made, and it was astounding, there were still reminders lurking around every corner. The wounds on her wrists had healed, her broken fingernails had grown back, and her bruises faded to an unblemished complexion. But the tattoo had remained. 

They had only really talked about it once, that day he gave her ring back to her. She’d been determined to get rid of it, counting the days until she could have it safely removed. The words he had said to her echoed in his mind. 

_“All I'm trying to do, is give you some hard-won perspective. You can choose to see that tattoo as your greatest failure. But I see it as proof that you're a survivor.”_

Whether she kept it or not, he truly did not care. But he had wanted her to make the decision for herself, and not with the expectation that it would erase the memory of what she through. Nothing could do that. Finding a way to make peace with the tattoo itself was fundamental. 

She had never followed through on getting it removed, he knew, even if they didn’t really address it. It was her decision and having chimed in once, he let it be. But it didn’t escape his notice how careful she was with it. Never had she worn anything that would expose it, even in the gym. Often he saw her angling her body so her left side was pulled away from anyone or anything that could come in contact with it. Even in the last month, as they’d finally moved from co-workers and friends to a couple, she’s always been careful to position herself on his left side. It was noticeable because after a year of her riding shotgun in the shop, having her on his right side was second nature. The pattern had been clear and Tim was good at reading patterns. And respecting them, especially when it came to Lucy. 

But he had slipped up and now here they were, Lucy frozen and silent as death and Tim berating himself for being so careless. 

Pulling back, he tried to shift his weight off of her, coming to kneel on the floor next to the couch. “Lucy, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to. I didn’t think. I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Apologies fell out of his mouth as fast as he could form the words, desperately trying to find whatever combination he could to take away that awful look on her face. Words didn’t seem to be getting through to her at all, so he tried reaching out to place his hand on her knee. 

Wrong move. 

She flinched. Lucy Chen, who never flinched with a gun in her face or dodging a punch from a criminal, had just flinched when her boyfriend tried to offer comfort through touching her knee. Tim rocked back on his heels while he watched her curl in on herself and shrink back from him. It clicked in his mind that he couldn’t fix this, he couldn’t just hug her or crack a joke and make it all better. The shock of that, as unsettling and foreign as it felt, kicked his brain back into rational thinking. He took a moment to sit back and observe.

It was clear Lucy was in the throes of some kind of panic attack or flashback, some trauma response triggered by the touch to the tattoo. Her brain was in survival mode right now and she couldn’t just be snapped out of it. Being patient and not acting wasn’t in his nature. He should be able to help make it better, that’s why he joined the Army and then became a cop. But right now, he couldn’t do any of that. What she needed was to feel safe and have the space to put herself back together. 

He took a deep breath and scooted backwards past her feet before standing up. Slowly, making sure to stay in her field of vision the whole time, he walked around the coffee table to the other end of the couch. It was a gamble, being this close to her, but he hoped that by seating himself facing away from her, he could offer some reassurance with his physical presence. Sitting on the floor, with his back against the couch, he simply rested his arm along the edge of the cushions, near her, but trying hard not to impose at all. “Lucy,” he said, pitching his voice low and soft. “I’m sorry. You’re safe and I’m here whenever you’re ready.” And then he waited.

Sitting there, making sure to stay still, keeping his focus on her so he could respond as soon as she was ready, without letting the tension eat him alive was no easy task. He fell back on his own rookie days, reciting the penal code to himself, listing each crime and the corresponding number. It was familiar and grounding to him now, ingrained deeply in his brain. Somewhere around 402(a), Sightseeing at the Scene of an Emergency, he heard her take a shuddering breath, as if she was coming up for air after having been underwater. All senses on alert, he held himself in place, resisting the urge to spin around and check on her. 

Her fingers crept over to his, barely brushing against them. A little bit of tension within him eased, grateful that she was reaching out. Carefully, he turned his hand, palm facing up. Another beat and she gently laid her own hand in his. He held his breath as she interlaced their fingers and gripped him tightly. Eyes closed in gratitude, he squeezed back, rotating so he was parallel with her. 

“Hey, Boot,” he murmured. “I got you.” 

The tension oozed out of her at his words. No dramatic dam bursting or abrupt deflation, just a steady release as her muscles gradually lost their rigidity and color started to come back to her cheeks. He glanced at her face to see her looking back at him, her eyes clearing of the terror that had filled them. It wasn’t quite a smile, but she had a look of calm that warmed him just as much. Still holding his hand fiercely, she sat up and tugged him along with her. 

No words were exchanged as he settled back on the couch next to her, mirroring their earlier position. But now, the silence between them was, if not comfortable, at least settled. Time stretched on as they stayed there, Lucy with her head tucked against his shoulder, and his resting on top of hers. 

“I’m sorry, Lucy. I should have been more careful. I knew it was there and I shouldn’t have gone anywhere near it. I shouldn’t be the one scaring you and causing you more pain. I should be helping you through it, not making it worse.” 

Lucy shook her head fiercely. “No, don’t. It’s not your fault. Gah, this is so stupid. I shouldn’t still be freaking out over this!” she exclaimed as she wiped away the tears that had gathered. “It’s been almost a year. I shouldn’t still be this weak!”

“What?! No. Lucy, stop right now.” His voice was firm, akin to when he was in T.O. mode, but suffused with warmth and affection. “You went through a trauma; that doesn’t go away overnight. And weak? Boot, you are anything but.”

Lucy’s heart warmed at his statement, but she still couldn’t quite believe him. “I wouldn’t call going catatonic from being tickled a sign of strength,” she grumbled.

“Hey, listen to me.” He paused to make sure she was really hearing him. “Getting up everyday, going out into the world, and living a normal life is strength. Some people would let the fear override them and keep them prisoner. Not only do you not do that, but you push back against other people trying to cause harm. You actively seek out the dangerous people and stop them from causing further pain. And all through this, you haven’t changed. You’re still the same caring, compassionate, stubborn, pain in my ass bleeding heart you were when you walked in to roll call that first day. You haven’t let anyone or anything diminish that fire inside you. That’s pure strength.” 

She was quiet as she took in his message. It echoed everything she had heard from her friends, her parents, her therapist. But coming from him, it carried more weight. This was the man that knew her so well, _too well_ , and even with his constant tests and challenges, he never pushed her beyond her limits. He always carried this unshakable faith that she could handle it, whatever was thrown at her. So far he had been right. Blinking away the fresh tears, she twisted her neck to look up at him.

“Thank you,” she said simply and squeezed his hand once more.

He smiled that soft smile only she ever seemed to draw from him and kissed the top of her head. “You’re welcome.”

**Author's Note:**

> Katie, did you catch the thing?!?!


End file.
